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Short Story / Thus Spoke a Nobody (Analysis)
Thus Spoke a Nobody
“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss gazes into you.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
“Thou, criminals of hate, hate none other than thyselves” Thus spoke the Nobody.
And his words were not heard, despite the monsters about him. They lived upon his rooftop day and night, the monsters did, and spied on his every move. One spoken thought was sent to a database to be analyzed by bigger and more powerful monsters – with the homeliest of personality features – who decide whether or not a particular nobody should be further spied upon, based on snippets and glimpses taken of the nobodies’ lives – a very limited look into their lives. This particular Nobody usually was a humble person, though not perfect in any sense; he posed no threat to the big monsters. The Nobody’s features, despite being rather reclusive, fit the most suspicious nobodies to be spied upon, for many other nobodies like him have done horrible things – things far worse than the vilest of monsters – so he was then watched constantly. But he spoke his thoughts anyway, and the monsters thought him all the more crazy, and unpredictable. But he was no more dangerous than a housefly. Thus was the character of the Nobody.
The monsters on his roof changed positions, quite often, and he never was able to capture an image of one; however, he heard them, night and day, working away at sending the information they gather – after distorting it to fit their tastes – to the bigger monsters to analyze and decide to continue watching the Nobody. He was irritated beyond belief, but began using them as mediums for his poetry – the one thing the Nobody did in order to entertain himself. He found it fun, but the monsters thought it a threat. He heard them reading his writings from where he sat at his machine, heard them laughing and showing their ignorance and poor taste. They criticized things they apparently knew nothing of. The laughing made the writing harder, but he pushed on – though disappointed for their want of objectivity. Thus, he continued to be watched.
The Nobody was indeed a reclusive type, thoughts being his favorite subject – and, more importantly, his own were the top of the list. While his mind raced, he wrote his poems, but was unable to concentrate with the monsters moving about. They often used hoot owl calls, or some such birds, as communication – taking the Nobody for a fool for his different behavior – and he found often writing was impossible. But the thoughts raced on, and thus, the Nobody entered into the realm of monsters. He let his thoughts form words, rather than writing, and he sent his words to the biggest of monsters to hear, ponder, analyze, and – as he hoped – waste their time on. He did this at almost an obsessive rate, but found his words going out to no one who would listen – no monsters, no other nobodies, no money people. His words were smote by the smaller, and grandiose, monsters on his roof.
Having not caught an exact image, the Nobody didn’t know what the monsters on his roof looked like. He’d seen the bigger monsters through mediums, but they wore make-up and spoke words they meant not. Other nobodies are only allowed to know what the big monsters want them to know. Nobodies, in general, know about 10% of what is actually happening around them.
The Nobody poet did not feel himself to be exceptional in any way. However, he was acute to detail, sound, vibrations, frequencies, subtle changes, technology – in short, he was aware of being watched at all times. But not all, mind you. He primarily had an awareness of the monsters on his roof, but the curiosity in the matter was the fact they hardly left, save for his sleeping hours, and when he himself went to the roof to fix a leak or some such menial task. He was aware of something, without knowing precisely, which kept him ill at ease.
But he stayed in the realm of the monsters, for he had no fear, despite all the monsters tried to instill into him. The Nobody was quite strong in his attitudes toward privacy and personal rights. But such notions were all a rouse put on by the big monsters, so nobodies remain stupid, and the big monsters will feel better about their own ugliness by knowing all about the nobodies. Most nobodies truly mean no harm, despite some of the awful things they do. Monsters have added chemistry to the make-up of the nobodies, and sometimes their make-up’s quality is low. That gives all a notion of what a crazy nobody is, and this sets the profile for all. Nobodies are individuals, not a mass. But that is too complex for the big monsters. The smaller ones have even less an idea, but they seem complacent in being workhorses, snitches, squealers, peeping toms, because they call it “exciting” work. It is only exciting in the most perverse sense of that word.
And thus, the Nobody’s words were not heard. . .
All went on like this for some months before the Nobody’s irritation led him to attempt to frighten the monsters away. But he soon found this is impossible – a nobody cannot scare a monster (monsters’ thoughts have been trained in one line, and they have little capacity for anything else, such as creativity; their behavior is always justifiable in their minds, regardless of alternative approaches). He went to desperate and embarrassing efforts to hide himself from the monsters, for they were invading his personal affairs. He was unable to write, to talk with friends, to feel as though he could speak entirely freely about subjects not concerning his own thoughts. . .thus, the Nobody’s paranoia worsened. Uncreatively, the monsters find their own excuse from the textbooks they skimmed, and make their own conclusion. They have no consideration for a nobody, for it is the monsters vs. the nobodies in general life. The money people were a politics of their own, of which the Nobody new little of, but wanted to desperately. They were even above the big monsters, though the big monsters were too happy making appearances to know this.
The Nobody, one day, realized that life, now, is a cycle of information, all passed on, all analyzed, and vague conclusions are the results of this hierarchy of information. But such is the cycle of life, as the Nobody came to know it among the realm of monsters. He felt more helpless as days wore on, and his spoken words were meaning less and less, even to him. More and more monsters were assigned to watch him – wasting their time, and his mental stability – so then, when the day comes, they can capture him and place him in Limbo – for want of a better term – where they love to see nobodies suffer. Thus, is the excitement of their positions in life. But they needn’t feel at fault on the matter. It was the way the bigger monsters teach smaller ones to think – when the bigger ones die, the younger take over, and also teach the new young monsters what they know.
Other monsters are assigned, not to watch, but to make technology that would make spying on nobodies more simple, and more subtle. Large machines could soon fly over nobodies, and see what they are doing inside their homes. More subtle devices were made, as well, rendering it possible to listen in on every word spoken by any nobody, be it in a room or on another widely available communication device, most nobodies would never expect. And this can be heard from miles away. The technology involved became deeper and deeper, and closer and closer to violating privacy and personal rights. A nobody would buy an ordinary appliance, should they need one, and inside will be a small device that records their actions within their homes. Their computers and personal files were invaded by monsters, and carefully read. This information is passed on; this is under the guise of the big monsters protecting the nobodies. It is indeed a lie. Thus, the life cycle goes on.
There was one day when the Nobody remained indoors, for it was raining, and the Nobody loved to watch the rain. However, the noise on his roof forced him up there despite the rain, and he found no one. This prompted him to question his own sense, but it was soon restored after seeing that someone had been up there, other than he. The monsters really were not as discreet as they imagined themselves to be. But the Nobody was impressed with the quickness with which they were able to elude him. He wished he had the same skill, but ‘t would only be used against monsters, or if another nobody was after him. The Nobody was not, by nature, violent; but when irritated, his actions could be perceived and interpreted as such, via the monsters’ textbook. The Nobody found himself taking frustrations out by destroying inanimate objects; he enjoyed seeing things come apart by force, and he realized that this must be the love of the monsters. They love to see the lives of nobodies come apart. Thus, the nobodies and the monsters (especially the smaller ones) coexisted. There is no adverb to describe the manner of coexistence, but it was indeed complex.
And, the Nobody’s words were never heard. . .
And the Nobody continued to speak his thoughts, write when he could, and all other habits that he daily enjoyed within his own home. In public, he was a civil civilian. But as he spoke his thoughts more at home, he began speaking them more and more while in public, which caused many nobodies to react in an awkward way, filled with much dismay. But the Nobody spoke on, and lesser he became a poet; rather he was an orator. Arguments were frequent betwixt he and the general public of nobodies, and he found himself with fewer friends as the months passed. But, as made clear before, the Nobody needed no audience to voice whatever subject happened to be on his mind. But this, of course, looked odd to nobodies who were different – particularly, in public. So many were forced to listen to his gibberish.
Thus, still the Nobody’s words were not heard. . .
One can say his words were heard, but rather, more accurately, should be described as saying his voice was heard, but not his words. His words shaped no coherent meaning or topic which gave others a frame of reference, so his words often seemed shockingly insane, absurd, vulgar, racist, sweet, angry, mean, beautiful – the range was quite infinite. But the Nobody had not more than one personality; simply a love for the racing mind, and the humorous things he could find to say to himself. So (of course while the monsters listened) he spoke to himself the most.
Yet, the Nobody’s words were not heard. . . .
And the Nobody journeyed afar on one afternoon, taking in all his peculiar habits and setting forth to the civil life where a nobody could label themselves ‘civilians’ should they feel that term is more satisfying. The Nobody did consider himself one, but his ego set himself apart from other nobodies at times. And he knew when to sight a monster in public; their make-up was much more identifiable. He believed he saw one, intermixed with a group of particularly uncreative nobodies – a loathsome lot to the Nobody, and the archetype for what a true ‘nobody’ is – on one occasion that was previously arranged. That afternoon, through a communication device, he relayed some information as to his location that afternoon, and when he arrived at that location there was a monster among the nobodies. Our Nobody knew perfectly well, for other nobodies were forced to play role in the one monster’s game; they had to sign certain documents, swearing their oath out of fear. The monster sat in one position, never moving, or at least, rarely, so as to be picked out by the Nobody. He was curious at this, but continued with his business as he had previously arranged. He was filling in for another nobody in a game that nobodies often play to waste their time, and their lives away on a toxin the monsters allow nobodies to have, because it shortens the life. The monster did nothing to the Nobody, but the Nobody’s paranoia was changed to a certain complacency of his own. He accepted that monsters felt him a threat, though he knew himself not to be one, and used it at times. Other times, the mere thought crippled him with fear and anxiety. Other times, the darkest depression came over the Nobody and he spoke to no one. So, of course, his words were not heard. . .
At times, the Nobody questioned the motives of the monsters. He had a couple in mind, but could not see the logic, unless it is a sort of game that smaller monsters can waste their time on, wasting their lives. He pondered deeply, wrote of the experience, lashed out, called the monsters names, played with their minds, purposely changing personalities – as his thoughts drove him – to baffle them if he could; at times, he was friendly. His ego let him think these behaviors did baffle, but they did not. Their minds were not capable of change, nor were they able to keep in mind the suffering one goes through under their torment. Their excitement forces them to block that away inside their minds, and not come out. Sympathy: a foreign word, or at least twisted inside their own restricted imagination with judgment. One was one, and two was two to the monsters, and, in fact, most of the nobodies. Our Nobody simply thought too much. He was unable to lock away some awful things, and his mind became more deeply troubled as time wore on. And he spoke less, where his humble words were not heard.
When his ego was high, he assumed the monsters watched for his exceptional mind. But, the Nobody knew this was rubbish, for he knew himself no exception. This troubled the Nobody all the more, and when irritated , he assumed the role of an egotist. He laughed at them, talked with them, joked with them, chided them, cruelty with words he used on them – this range was quite broad as well, and even horrified monsters at times; other times, they belittled him. Why should they care for his future? They had assignments to be done, and they were exciting assignments. So, again, the Nobody’s words were not heard. . .
Other times he suspected that the sounds on his roof were merely other nobodies, attempting to steal something of his. He feared electronics, at times, and kept certain cords unplugged, hand-wrote some of his material, tape-recorded the sounds and analyzed them, looked for spy material around his home. His neighbors even grew suspicious, as his behavior seemed odd. Or, perhaps they were a part of it all?
He knew not, but despite his pleas the Nobody’s words were not heard. . .
As time wore on the Nobody hadn’t enough time in the day for his thoughts, for all were consumed with this notion that the monsters were truly after him for something. He had suspicions, but feared the pettiness of it all; of course, his conscience worked his way into the scheme and he thought of any sort of worldly connection with his actions and the dangers of others. He checked his every step, dared not to look upon his neighbors, remained indoors, tape-recorded every sound he heard, for his own evidence, took to wearing sun-shields across his eyes so as to have to look as if he is trying not to look. Familiar feeling crept across his body, and he numbed with fear at times; others he laughed it off; still others he provided proof for them; in short, his madness was turning quite real.
And thus, in such a state, the Nobody’s words were not heard. . .
He presumed one monster (or wannabe nobody) was upon his roof, over his head, and he aimed his firearm directly at where he suspected the monster to be, where he heard a bird whistle and footsteps move quickly. Another day, he swore he caught sight of a rifle aimed at him. He ducked, and cried. There was no rifle aimed at the Nobody’s head, and no assassins behind the doors through which he walked.
He pulled himself together long enough to allow himself complacency with the monsters on his roof. But he knew it wouldn’t last, and impending doom loomed large upon his mind. Dooms of every nature fell his way, and dangerous monsters, disguised as nobodies, followed him more and more – increasingly dangerous. The voices bothered not to muffle themselves. They became smug with their positions over him, and desire for him to suffer aroused within them. This contempt grew as they watched the Nobody’s behavior grow increasingly odd, and laughed at him as though he were another nobody. He was, in fact, a true nobody. He cried as the realization fell over him, battered at his nightmares, and altered his habits. The Nobody walked on afar, monsters following, speaking his mind, but naturally, his words were not heard. . .
Walking along, the Nobody fell upon an elderly man, restricted in movement, but quite capable of trying. He asked the old soul why he was restricted, and the old man laughed, saying “I was not in the realm of fear, and the monsters threw me into a pit of despair, and my savage behavior you see here, is the end result. Soon, my son, I will dwindle and become a part of the pit. I will be forced into the realm of fear, and that shall be my death.” Thus, the old man spoke. His words were heard by the Nobody, but it mattered not, for his words were never heard again. “Thy savage will be done, Monster. I grant thee. ‘T was done in true form.” Thus spoke the Nobody.
But his words were not heard. . . .
And the Nobody went on, hesitant, scared, but willing to face the realm of monsters. He went on and he spoke his mind. The monsters began making comments on his spoken words. Thus the Nobody was shocked, for his words were suddenly heard. But they were misinterpreted, and the Nobody finally saw how much worse such a result could be. It tore away at the Nobody’s mind, and yet he went on – monster glares from all sides – and he spoke his mind less, but began to speak non-verbally. His movements became shifty, twitchy, and nearly convulsive at times, and yet he burned away inside his mind, trying to ignore the monster glares. “Monster, do lift this veil of fear and deceit! I am no more!” Thus spoke the Nobody.
And the Nobody began listening more, as well. What he heard did cause him much pain and violent mood swings within him. He reacted in crazy, inane manners, often with much trepidation. The Nobody heard laughter upon him; his words were mocked by monsters without the capacity, nor education to do so. He hurt all the more. He lashed out into corners where monsters did not lie, yet he believed they were there. He yelled at them, “Monsters, do leave this house! I’ve nothing you want, save the brutality in watching one suffer! I am no more!” Thus spoke the Nobody.
And yet his words, had they been heard?
The Nobody came to one point when he knew not what to believe. He feared his own his own ability for protection, his own security, and his own privacy. Yet he feared all in others position to help him do so. He feared their monster-like stare. They might have been monsters, but he began to believe he didn’t know any more. The technology of make-up had become too intricate, and far too complex for him to feel he could any longer grasp. “Monster, who art thou?” Thus questioned the Nobody. But his question was not answered in proper manner; he could only presume his words not to be heard.
In the realm of the tightrope of monsters, the Nobody did venture forth to seek information. He kept his senses sharp and came to know what he had feared. He quivered with anxiety, and his throat clenched. His thoughts became all the more black, and yet he could not stand such thoughts from himself. He cowered at every noise, at every shadow, and feared even his own eyes. The Nobody was watched from all angles, and his words were indeed heard. But his words were interpreted in an immature, edited fashion. “Monster, why hast thou done this to me?” Thus asked the Nobody. The Monsters gave him the answer he had expected, and the Nobody was gravely disappointed.
His words had never been heard. . .he simply had to except it.
So he listened not to what the monsters believed. He created his own reality, the monsters could not help but want to force themselves into. They shoved the Nobody about, and showed him papers and hollered words into his ear in a way that no human ear could stand, let alone hear in proper manner. The Nobody ignored the monsters, as they had ignored his words. His words meant the only thing to him – with the privacy to speak them in. “Monster, I have right to do what I like in my home, and thou hast none upon my roof!” Thus spoke the Nobody. But his words were countered with statements the smaller monsters learned to say. With beatings to boot.
Thus, the only words heard from the Nobody, were those of pain. . .
And still the Nobody was mocked. There had not been a soul empathizing with his position in the mix of the world. But all was a mistake. All. And the Nobody dwindled to become part of his own pit. He cried, “O, Monster, my solitude is what I’ve asked for, and have received none. Let thy will be done, but increase no pain.” Thus, the Nobody’s words were also chosen to be ignored.
The Nobody soon discovered that not a soul understood his words. He roused contempt within himself for the depletion of the human mind – chemicals, machines, computers, cable wires – all had wiped out thought, replacing it with a series of microchips, intermixing and confusing all things sensed. Thus, the Nobody chose not to speak. He feared that his mind was indeed in the realm of monsters, and he feared for what was to come.
But what came to the Nobody?
The Nobody awoke, in the realm of monsters, unmasked even, but the ambience was calm and peace was about every stranger’s neck. The Nobody lifted his head to meet the kind eyes of another monster, administering an injection into his left arm. “There, now, all shall be calm for thee” Thus spoke the kind monster, the Nobody unable to lift his eyes from the monster’s. The Nobody felt his head drop and watched the drool form on his lap. “Might I have a small towel to wipe up this drool? I seemed to have let it fall” Thus inquired the Nobody.
And he smiled, for it appeared that his words had been heard, and understood.
Thus, the nobody went on, drool in his lap, and laughed at the colors on the walls, contrasting them with the black bird that stood in the window sill. It stared back at the Nobody, once the two caught eyes, and spoke: “Nobody, thou art a fool. Thou knowst this, but I shall tell thee bluntly for reasons of clarity. Dost thou understand where thou art?” And the Nobody, slightly taken aback within his haze, answered: “I am no more.” And thus, the Nobody’s words were again heard and understood. The bird responded: “Thou art a Nobody, locked away with other savage nobodies, so thy mind will be shut down. Thou must understand this, while thou hast the time to decide for thyself.” And the Nobody’s retort: “But I am no more!” The bird became irritated and flew away, but returned an instant later, to let his words be last. The bird spoke: “Thou art so, though thou wishest not to be, Nobody. Thou must accept thy position as Nobody, sleeping as Nobody, eating as Nobody, and dying as Nobody. Dost thou see this picture?” And the Nobody answered: “Of course, Bird, I am Nobody. Thou art correct in saying I wish not to be, but yet I’ll let myself dwindle into my own pit.” Thus spoke the Nobody. But the bird parted him by speaking: “Thy pit is no longer thine. ‘T is theirs now.” And the bird flew away with finesse.
The Nobody’s words had not been heard, as he hoped, yet he knew they should not be; he listened not to the words of others. . .
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KRIS84 reviewed Version 1 -
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bridget reviewed Version 1 -
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Your writing is well thought out and the content strong it was not able to hold my interest in the long haul. I felt like I was receiving facts only though I felt there was a story being told it was not revealing itself to me. I am familiar with
Nietzche and you captured his voice and philosophy well. You are a good writer, wish I felt compelled to continue with the piece but I didn’t.
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Brain reviewed Version 1 -
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I really liked this story. Very well written and interesting. It definitely stands in my memory as one of the most intriguing pieces I have read in a long time. Very well done!
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